“If he is not careful the coach is gonna take him out of the game.”

“Oh shit,” Chris yelled, “that was fucking close.”

“DOWN!” Now we were bunched-up too tight…one round could take the lot of us out. But now they were ranging back, no passage noise, just explosions and rips and tears and ground vibrations and smoke and heat and fire.

I snuggled under the edge of a dead tree and reached back and grabbed my helmet off my pack and put it on, then buried my face in the dirt. I could feel Chris crawling over my legs trying to get under the same tree. I knew Ian and Carlos were hunched together behind a group of spindly trees that had been shredded by past artillery. Not much cover. Last time I saw Antin he was beside Chris.

I started squirming to try to get lower, but the ground was wet and hard. So nothing for it but to lay there and hope for the best. Then it got worse. We seemed to be central to their targeting, and now dirt was flying and rocks were landing on me. There is no way under these circumstances you can get all anxious and panicky, since you are focused on one thing—staying alive. There is no room for deep thought or emotional filigree.

Something pinged off my helmet, then dirt hit my face hard enough to burn. I had in ear plugs, but things were getting quieter…my hearing was going. I could hear ringing and now dull thuds and a cyclical roaring. I wiped my face and my arm came away bloody. My nose was pouring. Every time a shell landed I could feel Chris instinctively tighten his hand on my leg. And, I could feel the palsy in his hand.

For a moment I felt like jumping up and firing off a mag and yelling “Stop it you fucking illiterate ———.” That veered off into imagining wiping-out everything on the earth with even a hint or tint of Russian….smashing every fucking Faberge Egg, Pissing on Tolstoy’s grave, a small tactical nuke laid-down in some greasy toilet vent on the roof of the Kremlin, and gouging the eyes out of Orc prisoners with a grapefruit spoon as they screamed and plead for mercy. I got real Tim Dorsey creative.

Then it stopped. Only the smoke, silent, orange and gray and with an oily tint was hovering over us. It played with the breeze and hung low, heavy with chemicals. A toxic brew. I just laid there and felt numb. My body was still vibrating…humming like a failing transformer. I could still think. I could still see.

I reached a shaking hand into my front bandage pocket and took some gauze and jammed it up my nostrils. That made me feel like I was suffocating. I tried to take a breath, coughed, and a knot of scum and dirt came out, but I had to jerk the gauze out to pull a few rasping breaths. Calm the fuck down. You are ok.

---

Now that it was over my body and mind was starting to react. I forced my breathing to slow, and just took measured, deep breaths, the ones that make your lungs feel full and slow your pulse.

Chris crawled up beside me. His nose was also bleeding. and his eyes looked fucking crazy. He smiled, and with a rasping, shaky voice….”If its the last thing I do I am gonna fucking kill every Russian that walks the earth. When I am 90 and if there are any left I am gonna be hunting them down and torturing and killing them.”

“Count me in, Bubba.” Ian, Carlos and Antin crawled in looking half dead. Dirt and shattered leaves was stuck in Ian’s face camo, making him look like a Troll’s supreme pizza. I had bloody gauze hanging out of my nose, and he laughed…”You look like something out of Wanda.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is anybody hurt?” Chris asked. Everybody shook their head.

“There must be some God looking out for our miserable asses….Horus, Perun, Odin, whoever the fuck,” Chris said.

Carlos giggled. His face was stone dead, and one eye was blinking a bit too much. “If there was a fucking God we wouldn’t be here.”

‘Fuck Gods, it is just dumb luck,” Ian replied. He was laying down on his back, his head arched over the fallen tree. I knew he was trying to get himself collected in a dignified way. Just leave him alone and let him work it out.

“Luck is never having to say you’re sorry.”

“Oh fuck you,” Chris growled.

Antin just sat there and watched us, listening. Stunned.

I don’t know how long we stayed immobile. It seemed hours. Finally sanity returned, and we decided to move, to get away. Nobody wanted to seem weak, and a bit of our tough-guy front eked its way back in. We moved out slow, very slow. All of us had hearing issues, and were not exactly up to movie commando standards. But, we had to go. Nobody was willing to admit the degree of urgency of how bad we wanted to get away.

---

So, we are back in for a few days. We came in tired, hungry and smelling like a trip of billy goats. No real shower with soap in over a month, just a whore’s bath with a rag and a bucket. Chris is walking like a drunk sailor. All the hide is peeled off his crotch and some kind of fulminating miasma has taken over. He found a stick of butter and put it in his panties to soften it, then slathered it over his junk. I immediately thought of the song “Build me up Buttercup,” and then that odd B-movie “Luggage of the Gods“, where the song has a bit part. I started laughing my ass off. We looked like the cavemen, and I was gonna call Chris “Buttercup” from now on.

“What’s so funny, asshole?” Chris scowled. “

Your dick looks fucking rotten,” Ian answered.

“Well, guess it needs a little tender loving care…how about a kiss motherfucker?”

---

I am not one to dream much, and almost never have anything close to a nightmare. But now I have this recurring one about getting trapped behind a fallen tree by rockets and artillery fire and hearing men shrieking and the loud, physical crack and rumble of explosions and the whine and impact of hot shards of metal slicing into flesh and trees and glancing off shit and wailing off into the distance.

I usually wake-up when the hits get so close I am getting buried by earth and can’t breathe. A few nights ago I woke up just as I saw the ghost of Sean Flynn run by with a toothy grin and Great Wall Plastic Company camera.

Man, a head doc could make a fortune off me.

---

While we were gone a couple of guys moved into our bachelor’s pad, despite the sign warning against squatters. It was an easy affair to get rid on them. I barged in with my AK in one hand and with my best totally fuck-all around-the-bend hillbilly crazy face and started yelling. Carlos had his knife in his teeth and had an insane eyes dance going on like a horny Wodaabe tribesman. We threw their shit out right behind them. Ian and Antin were outside rolling on the ground laughing.

Now I have calmed down a bit. I am listening to tunes and writing. Right after arriving and adding to the homeless problem, I took a shower until the hot turned to cold, then changed clothes and crashed. later I shaved and ate so much I ended up taking residence in the head.

“Mr. Tambourine Man.” The Byrds “
“It never rains in Southern California.” Albert Hammond
“I’m Leaving it All up to You.” Dale and Grace
“For What it’s Worth” Buffalo Springfield.
“Honky Tonk Woman – The Stones
“Magic Carpet Ride – CCR
“Brown Eyed Girl” van Morrison
“The Pusher” Steppenwolf
“Rock me” Steppenwolf
“All Summer Long” The Beach Boys
“Runaway” Del Shannon

That early 60s shit sure does make me feel old. But, back then things seemed pretty good. That was before Vietnam, before Tet, before Nixon and before the music went away -the latter according to Don McLean. It was before ISIS and before this fucking mess. I never dream about Vietnam. I do have a rare but recurring dream about that foot sticking out of a mass grave in Kurdistan, the toes still moving. It still reminds me of a WW2 U-boat periscope.

Chris woke up a few hours ago and rolled over and stared at me as I smoked and drank and typed. “You should sleep.”

“Can’t.”

“I feel like fucking hell,” he moaned.

I blew smoke in his face and said: “That’s what happens when you run with boys who want to go out and stomp some ass.” He laughed and rolled back over.

I turned on “I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night.”

Hey, great to hear from you. At an intermission at the SF Symphony, they’re doing a Disney movie tie-in so I have to go back in in a few minutes. Seville, Spain among many others wrote to me a bit worried you had not checked in. What have you guys been up to?

Got mixed in with some guys who are serious about this war thing. Lol!

One guy, a Georgian had business cards. On the back was that old Hemingway thing….”There is no hunting like the hunting of men, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and like it, never care for anything else thereafter.”

OK headed back in. Welcome back man.

Thanks. I think i got that (quote) right.

---

(A conversation with several people.)

Finally back onto firm ground. Hot food, a nicer dirt bed, and a shower. Guess a bit of time in the woods makes you appreciate simple things.

Great to hear from you again!

Same!

Sometime today all four of us have to mosey over to the quack and get checked. All of us are showing signs of mild concussions.

Rugged trip?

Was a bit of a bother here and there.

Chris is feeling sorry for himself. Seems his head always gets in the way of shrapnel and shock waves. But, he is still pretty sharp. I told him if that chow girl was still around I was gonna ask her for her number.”

“I already know it, it is 867-5309.” Asshole.

The takeaway this time:
– 4 concussions
– 2 hemorrhaged sinuses
– More hearing loss for all
– 10 stitches in Ian’s arm.
– 1 crotch rot

One weird thing, which has happened before, we were out in no man’s land, in-between two battle groups, where the only folks around were dead or were idiots like us. We heard it long before we got close. It was a guy just screaming. We sheered-off to move some distance away from the sound.

He would scream, then stop, then go at it again. No idea if he was wounded, crazy or possibly, under the circumstances, very sane.

Did not know if he was an Orc or a Yook. Chris grew tired of it quick and offered Carlos 50 bucks to sneak over and slice his throat.

“No way, man, insanity is contagious.”

He was still going at it until we got out of ear-shot.

It’s a blood-borne disease!

Brain worms.

I see you’ve been reading the papers!

One of the good things here is I ran across some of those heavy, black nitrile gloves. They tend to keep the old claws from cracking and bleeding.

---

Seems the world has gotten a bit more tense…..

Oh man, big-time.

I don’t know if you heard about this, but it’s making some folks pretty nervous. Also, China has been ratcheting up the aggression. They aren’t very fond of Taiwan’s new leader and their stance on China’s bullshit.

They will keep pushing hard. At some point they may go, but that will have serious consequences – for everybody.

I think they will definitely go, and likely sooner than the 2027 timeframe which Xi gave his forces to be ready within. As Australian MGen (retired) Mick Ryan points out, “It is a force structure and preparedness timeline, not an operational one”.

I usually keep up with the fab world, but am a bit behind right now. I know at one time the Taiwanese were rigging their fabs to be quickly disabled long-term upon an invasion. I know the west does not want the Chinese to get their hands on the latest ASML litho tech.

Story came out recently about ASML having back doors into the EUV kit in Taiwan, to deny usage in the event of an invasion. As it is, lithography machines apparently require so much support from ASML that they wouldn’t work for long if cut off from them.

ASML is the only company in the world who can build them. Of course the optics are from Zeiss. I can’t keep up with it here, but a guy with a lot of insight and inside info is a great source. “Asianometry” on YouTube.

EUV is pretty far-out.

It is total insanity. One ASML high-NA Twinscan is like 400 million bucks now. It takes several to run a cutting edge, high-volume fab.

I upgraded a while back to a new PC using a 7nm SOI processor. Crazy stuff. I sometimes glance over at the tower and marvel at how it was produced at TSMC.

I remember sweating over doing a process flow design for 250 nm. Lol!

Yep, it sure has changed a lot. I applied my HVAC view on things to the build, case is sealed except exhaust fans rear, top and front. PSU is separate, air ingresses through a magnetic case-side filter near CPU cooler and video card. I got tired of cleaning out my previous PC.

---

Going down my music list…amazing how good Madonna was back in the day. Especially “Live to Tell.”

If I don’t get out of here I am gonna run through my tunes for a fourth or fifth time.

If I had an address I would have (ex-wife #1) send me a thumb drive full of tunes. My luck it would be an anthology of 1940s country music.

---

So, my manifestations of a head banger are:
– Sprite circles in my left eye
– A mild headache
– I get impatient with music
– Dizziness when moving quickly

Chris has nausea and a bad headache. But, this is his fourth concussion since we have been here. If he is not careful the coach is gonna take him out of the game.

Beach time, Cap. Beach time.

Well, if you don’t get this world sorted-out, mark, we may all end up, uh…On The Beach.

Now I have “Waltzing Matilda” stuck in my head again.

Where are the USO shows of yesteryear? If the US would send something north of spooks, CIA contract mercs and sheep-dipped specops guys over here, we would suddenly get a lot of luxury stuff. But, guess that would piss-off the Russians.

---

Chris is up now and he keeps changing clothes. If we had a mirror he would be sucking-up and pouting like a dipsy teenager. He is fucked in the head right now. This is worse than a Boyz ll Men video. Luckily he is headed to the doc. They are gonna tie his ass to a bed.

Ian came around with some kind of little meat pies and some hot beer. Breakfast, I guess.

(Ex-wife #1) texted that an AH-64 went down at Fort Carson a few days back. Off Essayons road not too far inside gate 19. That is helo heaven down there. She said it was a hard landing, not a crash. Of course, a “hard landing” in a helo is tough on the occupants. Is also a drone heavy location. Pretty lonely territory down there, except for the town of Fountain.

Ian is saying our post (debrief?) is delayed. Not sure why that is a thing anyway, since we were not working under our normal chain of command. But, a good thing. Right now It would be like interrogating Donald Duck’s nephews.